“Hello, my old friend,” said Madeline, reaching out her hand and smirking. She was wearing a frilly white blouse that buttoned up to her neck, and a long blue pleated wool skirt. But the real coup de grâce was her hair. She had shed her wigs and done something more fundamental, dying her hair a dark blond color, and perming it into a broad, eighties semi-fro. Ayala looked at her, flinched, then stifled an involuntary laugh. Madeline kept her face completely deadpan to increase the other woman’s struggle.

“Something wrong, Ms. Zubaideh?” Madeline asked.

“No … wow … I … umm …” Ayala looked to either side and was further disconcerted to see that the receptionist sitting across the room was in a disturbingly similar outfit. Ayala doubted that the other woman had also been going for irony when she got dressed this morning so she merely nodded and looked back at her friend. A laugh tried to escape her lips again and her brow furrowed, her lips pursing as she held it inside.

Madeline relented on the poor woman and allowed herself a small smile. Leading Ayala through the security doors with her badge, they made their way in relative silence to the small office that had been the site of their meeting with Matsuoka.

Closing the door behind them, Madeline turned to her fellow conspirator.

“Well, what do you think?”

Ayala allowed herself to laugh openly now, a tear of mirth even running down her face, “My lord, you look … delightful.” Madeline looked at her, laughing as well, while also feigning indignation and defending her new look.

“What? This is a very nice blouse, I’ll have you know. Some women in a local church group make them.” This new twist made Ayala redouble in laughter.

“Oh, it’s lovely,” said Ayala between giggles. “And how is your husband the vicar?”

“Well,” said Madeline, laughing, “he’s fine. You know, the vicar thinks I look beautiful.” Madeline reached up and cupped her hands under her new hairdo, puffing it lightly.

“Oh I’ll bet he does, the horny devil.”

“Yes, well, he’s always had a thing for women in industrial strength wool skirts,” laughed Madeline.

Ayala started to get her laughing under control, and looked again at the woman. Shaking her head as she wiped the tears from her eyes, she sighed. “Thank you, Madeline. Oh, wow, I needed that.” Still laughing, she went over and hugged the younger woman.

Madeline returned the genuine sisterly affection, and they squeezed each other tightly for a moment before Ayala stepped back and looked Madeline in her deep blue eyes.

“How is it going here?” the Israeli asked. “Are you really going crazy or is this just the vicar’s wife talking?”